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(page 4 of 93)

Still Winter Hours
Poem by Piotr Pawlowski
Previous (page 3)  |  Return to Contents  |  Next (page 5)

Still Winter Hours
Poem by Piotr Pawlowski

(page 4 of 93)

Keywords: eleventh transmission, poetry, fiction, photography, visual art, spoken word, film, socially engaged,
political, human experience, writing, satire, photojournalism, activist art, activism, socially conscious, art

Still Winter Hours

by Piotr Pawlowski

Strong March sun uncovers wet cold trash,
Awakens song. Song cast in open air.
The smell of ocean faintly upon the thaw.
I walk the core, then the perimeter down town

Knowing the joy of morning air. Open, warming.
I 'm a seasonal worker in the fields so still
I have nothing to do but this.
I listen to reports on economy
Cast in song upon the open air

Worms and sap will change the game
Yet again but not yet.

I think we ought to visit the reuse centre
Regularly now. People beginning spring cleaning
Meaning good finds. This herringbone jacket

I'm wearing now came from there
I've found tools there too.
Plant pots, speakers, kitchenware, chairs,
Books. Good books. Vonnegut, Sherman Alexie,
Arundhati Roy. Not garbage books!

My economy:
People caring about other people's garbage
Enough to organize!
Wednesdays and Saturdays from 8am to 4pm

On Muttons road.
These are still winter hours
But the smell of ocean comes
Faintly on the thaw
The strong March sun
Cuts crows feet, laugh lines
Into the face of everyone
Under economy.

"Collecting" by Piotr Pawlowski.
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